The Helenator!

In a first, I am writing a blog based on a request. After the blog about my grandfather, my mother in law (MIL) asked me to write one about her mom, my wife's grandmother. Due to my love and devotion for my MIL, I am gladly typing away.


The Helenator (as my wife's grandmother will henceforth be referred to) is quite the force of nature, and can be summed up with one term......spitfire! She may not always leave the best impression, but she definitely leaves one. The first time I met her she left one on me, literally. I was at my MIL's store she owned to see my future wife, but we had only been dating a few weeks. I was standing at the counter, when I received a swift kick in the ass. Wheeling around, I was surprised to see my attacker, a short stout woman in her sixties, who looked like she was ready to give it another go. I wasn't sure how to respond, luckily my wife intervened to introduce us. The Helenator can be very playful, but beware of entering into any gamesmanship, because she is a ruthless competitor, especially at cards. You have to be a strong person to play cards with her, because she plays for blood, and is a poor winner and an even worse loser. She's like a child, who will pick up their toys and go home if they're not winning. That does not happen often, one because she is good, but also unbelievably lucky. She always seems to win when she gambles, but will never reveal how much she wins. She takes her winnings, puts them in her purse, and then is elusive when answering how she did, "ohhh, I did all right, I think I'm a little ahead".


The Helenator is kind of like a magnet, she can quickly change her polarization, and she can alternately repel and attract. An example, she knows what she wants which is good, the bad, is that she is going to get it one way or another. Her behavior at restaurants is legendary. A well off woman since I have known her, I was shocked the first time at a restaurant when she started loading up her purse with sweetener packets and creamer and then rolled up the leftover roll in napkins and stuck them in there too. It wouldn't have been a normal meal out with the Helenator if she didn't return or complain about some part of her order. One time on a trip in Europe with my wife, her parents, and her grandparents, we stopped in a place to grab a drink. The Helenator wanted coffee, and the giant dispenser was empty, she would not be denied and started berating the employees to make her some (this was late in the afternoon and the place was closing soon). At this point her husband turns and quietly walked out the door shaking his head, he had been to this rodeo before and didn't want to watch.



In a sad twist to this tale, the Helenator passed away before I could finish it. Her spirit and spunk will be greatly missed, and I'm sure she's stirring up trouble wherever she is.



Just a few last memories to share. I remember going to the horse races with her. She wouldn't ever tell us what horse she was betting, but she always seemed to win more than any of us, of course she never would tell us how much she won. One time J and I were roped into helping at party the Helenator and her husband were having for friends. Up until that point (it was early in our dating) I had really only seen a prim and proper side of J's grandparents. That party showed a whole other side, there is nothing like a couple in their early 20's trying to lead a group of inebriated, hard of hearing group of sixty-somethings in a game of pictionary that they don't understand how to play.

Ode to a stubborn Dutchman

Had an interesting time today, I took my grandfather to the VA hospital to see a cardiologist. Seems his daughters (my mother and two aunts) wanted someone there to corroborate what the doctor said. My grandfather took it to mean they thought he was getting senile and couldn't be trusted to go to the doctor alone. Offended, he didn't want any of them to come. I offered to go instead, figuring someone should be there and he would be okay since I didn't question his mental fitness. I was okay to go, since I hadn't insinuated anything about his mental fitness. I love my grandfather, I aspire to be the kind of man he was and is, honest, kind, strong, helpful, giving, loving, tough, and stubborn. At 86, he is still all of those things, although in a frail physical shell of what he once was. His legs bow, and his back bends, but he is a mightily proud man still, and it saddens me to see him physically towards his end. The blessing is that his mind is still sharp, although his hearing has been suspect for years (I have a sneaking suspicion that oftentimes it's just selective listening). To be able to talk and remember with him is priceless, especially after witnessing dementia in friends and family.

My grandfather still lives in the same house that my mother lived in as a child, taking care of my grandmother who can no longer walk and himself. You will not see a more devoted husband, and this is to my grandmother, who can be a cranky, bitter, nagging old hag a lot of the time (even still, she is my grandmother, and I love her dearly). He cooks, he cleans, he does laundry, he is the caretaker. I hope to be such a wonderful husband for as long. He still drives...... like a bat out of hell, just call him lead foot. He still tends to his huge garden as he has always done. I still remember eating carrots, cucumbers, and peas, straight from the yard washed off with the hose. He still wants to live, but with his pride, if those things were taken from him he might not be around long after. My grandmother on the other hand likes to say she wants to die, I just ask her not to say it in front of my boys. I love that my boys have had the opportunity to know them, many people don't get the chance to know their grandparents, let alone their great-grandparents. I was lucky enough to grow up next door to my great grandmother, and still harbor many fond memories of her. I hope my boys will do the same.

Mine is a special relationship with my grandfather. My parents divorced when I was six weeks, and up until my mother remarried when I was five, he was the father figure in my life. Even after that, he played a close role in my life. Since both my parents worked, many of my after school days were spent at their house. His whole life he was in amazing physical shape despite bad knees and the nightly bowl of ice cream before bed which I loved to have with him. Then there were the fishing trips, and the rock hounding expeditions. I'm not exactly sure what rock hounding is, or what we were doing hiking around the mountains with hammers and heavy duty canvas bags, but I know it was always fun to go with him. I think he longed to be a prospector and discover gold. They were always educational trips too, my grandfather is a font of knowledge. Which was impressive, because he was mostly self taught through sheer will and determination in the desire to learn and gain knowledge. He had joined the Merchant Marines before he was eighteen, and never went to college, I think he would have really enjoyed it. He was a also tireless worker, trying to provide for his family. There were no breaks when doing things with my grandfather, you worked until the job was done, and he would never get tired. I don't think he let any one do anything for him until he hit his eighties. He is also the toughest man I have ever known. He was always crushing his thumb, or opening a cut, blood would be gushing everywhere, but he would act like it was nothing. He was like the Black Knight from Monty Python, "merely a flesh wound". He'd hold a towel on it, then maybe put some super glue on it to stop the bleeding. The worst he'd ever say was "well that will frost you!" or "oh for hell's sake!". Often times the second phrase would be followed by my grandmothers name, because of something she had said. I remember times in the kitchen with him baking bread, making candles, and his holiday favorite "oly bolies" (oliebol or oily balls). They were a Dutch pastry which he loved to make. I couldn't stand them, but I'd always eat one with a smile and tell him how good they were. Grandpa was great telling stories, but my favorite didn't come till I was grown and married. My wife and I had come to visit, and got to hear the story of how as a young married man he had lost my grandparents savings playing pinball. I almost fell over in laughter, I thought my grandmother might strangle him. I love that he often laughs, and can laugh at himself. If something was particularly funny you would get "oh my heart, my heart" as he would laugh and clutch his chest. One thing has always been steadfast with my grandfather, the fact that he is a stubborn Dutchman (witness above and his doctor appointment). Once his mind is set, there is no turning back. He makes a decision and it's full steam ahead, and come hell or high water he's sticking to it. You always know what you are going to get from my grandpa, he's the same no matter what, and he'll tell you straight. You really see how wise he is, because he knows when to keep quiet and stay out of things, probably to make up for my grandmother who often lacks a filter on her mouth. And that pretty much sums up the greatness that is my grandfather.

Reading this back, it almost sounds like a eulogy, and maybe that's what I'm doing, trying to prepare myself for that sad day. There's a song by Harvey Danger called "Jack the Lion", and every time I listen, it reminds me of my grandfather and the sad day of him "roaring his last". Happily the doctor said that shouldn't be any time soon, his heart looks good, although it's got some extra beats, nothing a stubborn Dutchman can't deal with.

Dr Frankenstein at your service

It seems I may have created a monster. Those close to me know my affinity (or obsession if you ask my wife) for sports and their fantasy counterparts. My dad always used to say that if someone was sweating on tv I would watch it. As I have grown up I've refined that a bit to basketball and football, with some golf thrown in. O has foregone interest for the most part, but Q has shown some interest, but was too small to understand much. That all changed this past fall, as a four year old, he is now old enough to understand a lot of what's going on. I was excited to have him want to use his season ticket to U football games. That was only the beginning, the NBA season started and his interest exploded. He knew the Jazz players from a poster he had and a few of the other superstars, but now he is like a walking basketball almanac. He can tell you teams and who plays for them and what number they are. I was shocked by how he knew all the players numbers, but then we realized it's because he's just starting to read and could only tell numbers, not names.

Q is a bit of a front runner, his favorite team is Miami, mostly because his favorite player is LeBron (he even used his own money from his birthday to buy a half off Cleveland jersey). I figure it could be worse, it could be Kobe and the Lakers, then I'd have to disown him. Actually, the only team he is forbidden to EVER root for is byu. A couple of months ago, the Jazz played in Miami against the Heat. It turned into an epic game where the Jazz came back from a huge deficit to force overtime. Q consistently cheered positive Miami plays, never wavering in his support. Ultimately the Jazz prevailed in OT to my cheering. At this point Q, who was in front of me watching, turns around with tears streaming down his face. I ask why? "Because Miami lost", trying to stifle a laugh, I took him in my arms and comforted him. At that moment I knew I had created a bit of a sports fanatic monster.
Things have only grown since then. O asks to see my iPhone to play Angry Birds and Plant Vs Zombies, Q asks for it so he can see who is playing that day or who is winning. We watch tv and he asks what game is on he can watch. In the morning he no longer wants to watch Curious George, he wants NBA Gametime or Sportscenter. I finally, after much nagging from him, got him his own fantasy basketball team (he's very upset football season is over and he didn't get his own team). He can tell you all about the players on his team, who they play for, and what they are good at. He is especially taken by Blake Griffin and Kevin Love on his team, but doesn't understand why I can't trade for LeBron for him. He can also tell you about the recent Orlando and Phoenix trade. He can name all the Jazz players and their numbers, including who the rookies are. He can tell you where former Jazz players are now. For Christmas he got basketball and football trading cards which he constantly peruses and tells you about. Ask him what he got for Christmas, and he will tell you he got NBA Jam for the Wii (and basketball shoes). It is now his favorite activity and all he wants to play, even over the Kinect we got. If we watch NFL games he can tell you the teams, and some players, he even knows Drew Brees is QB for New Orleans and was mommies fantasy league QB. He always picks who he wants to win and has his favorite teams, the Bengals, the Cowboys, and the Arizona Cardinals, although he calls them the Arizona Birdies. He also faithfully roots against the Broncos, much to his Charger fan daddy's delight. Sometimes I just have to sit back and laugh at him, but it is pretty fun having a partner for the games. I think my wife dreads having two of us in the house.